


Bite My Lip and Close My Eyes (Take Me Away to Paradise)

by Canadianlarrie (canadianlarrie), MsHydeStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 19 years old Harry, 21 years old Louis, Exhibitionism, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Roommates, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianlarrie/pseuds/Canadianlarrie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsHydeStylinson/pseuds/MsHydeStylinson
Summary: Is it too much to ask that when Harry gets home, soaking wet, from the worst date of his life that the shower would be free?Or the one where Harry goes on the date from hell only to return home to find he’s not alone in his desire to wank over his room mate.Written for Wankfest 2020.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 30
Kudos: 212
Collections: WANKFEST 2020





	Bite My Lip and Close My Eyes (Take Me Away to Paradise)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written on a whim and was by far the fastest one we have ever completed... two days and it was done! It will probably never happen again this quickly, but this was fun to write. 
> 
> As always, co-operation went smoothly. I wrote the dialogue and created this storyline; Jen ( [Canadianlarrie](http://canadianlarrie.tumblr.com) ) wrote the smut, betaed (wonderfully once again!) and polished the fic to its final shape. We are happy for the outcome, hope you’ll enjoy the reading as well. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not real, never happened, complete fiction, etc. Please do not take any of this seriously, as it is all fake. Please do not translate or repost on any other site without my permission.

_Blaablaablaa womp womp womp._

It’s all Harry can hear while he is sat in a booth at a crowded pub on Friday evening as he tries to feign interest in what his date is saying, but with every passing second it becomes increasingly harder. 

Maybe this is a sign for him to give up Tinder for good, since every time his dates turn out to be worse than the previous ones, and his current one takes the cake. 

Harry usually enjoys the company of different kinds of people from all different walks of life and tries to find something good in everyone. But now, despite the pair of hazel eyes (the same ones that had tricked him into this date in the first place), Harry can’t find any. He can have better conversations with his old faithful Chelsea boots than with this man sitting before him. Hmm… Jonathan? 

He is quite sure that is his name, but it really doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is this: how the hell he is going to get out this situation without looking like a total arsehole. 

Harry takes a rather large gulp from his pint and gives a brief nod to the guy, who is engaged in less than riveting monologue at this point, opposite from him. He wonders to himself when he is going to notice that Harry hasn’t said anything for the past five minutes. 

Or maybe neither of them care, that’s an option too. The most likely one even, Harry thinks. 

Harry lets Jonathan’s words stream through his ears and focuses his own energy towards his phone laying on the table, in an effort to telepathically make it ring or beep as a sign of a message. Anything he can use as an excuse to drum up some sort of emergency. He can also go to the bathroom and sneak out before this egocentric bastard even realizes his audience — officially no longer a date, thank you — is gone. 

“Shit!” Harry almost knocks his pint all over the table when the fates intervene and his phone miraculously goes off and he rushes to accept the incoming call. “‘Ello.”

“Haz, mate! Where are you?” Niall’s slightly slurred voice echoes from the other end of the line.

“Oh, no!” Harry breathes into the phone with worry in his tone.

“What?!?” Niall yells back. Inferring from the background noise that he is also in a pub. 

“Okay.” Harry continues when he notices Jonathan stops prattling on about himself and is aiming his focus on Harry. “I’d better come then.”

“What hell are you talking about?” Niall asks, sounding a bit confused.

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” Harry raises his eyes to meet Jonathan’s. “This is more important Gems, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Harry heard Niall say something just before he ends the call. He definitely has to call him back soon and explain his antics to him. Although, after Niall’s drunken brain digests the call, he’ll probably piece together the impaired conversation and comprehend what is going on. 

But first, Harry must deal with the problem in front of him. 

“Umm… That was my sister.” Harry starts awkwardly, trying to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. He is never any good at telling lies and is sure the word ‘liar’ is imprinted with massive block letters across his forehead right now too.

“Is she as good looking as you are?” Jonathan inquires with complete disregard of what has transpired in the last fifteen seconds. 

“Umm— What…?” Harry frowns. 

“I just thought, if she’s as hot as you’re, you can introduce her to me too.” _What in the actual fuck_.

“Ok, yeah. I gotta go.” Harry drank the last dregs from his pint and slaps the glass loudly against the table before standing up. “Thanks for the pint, but, I can’t even with this.” He declares, waving his hands above the table as if to showcase the jackassery he is currently experiencing.

“Goodbye.” Harry shouts as he storms out of the pub. _What the hell is wrong with that guy?_

The door has barely shut behind him when his phone rings again. Harry doesn’t even have to own a crystal ball to guess who the caller is.

“Nia—” is all Harry has time to utter before Niall’s indignant voice sounds through the receiver. 

“What the fuck man?” He shouts, the indignation audible in his voice. Perhaps Harry is overestimating his friend’s skill to make any logical conclusions at this time on an eminently wet Friday night. 

“Sorry, Nialler. I just had to make up a story to get out of the shittiest date I’ve been on since moving to London.” Harry explains, chewing his lower lip while trying to calm himself down. He is still seething over his so-called date’s behaviour. 

_Unbelievable._

“You were on a date? Did you get laid?” Niall wants to know immediately.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I had to get rid of him. Does that _sound_ like I got laid?” Harry snorts, pulling his thin wool peacoat tighter around him. Evenings in May can sometimes be warm but tonight definitely isn’t one of those. It is dark and cloudy; and fits well with Harry’s current state of mind.

“It’s not _im_ possible.” Niall huffs with plausibility. 

“Well, in this case, it really is mate. He is an absolute wanker.” Harry proclaims.

“And you mean to tell me you’ve never slept with one before?”

Harry brushes his hand through his curls and concedes, “Ok, fair play. Thanks for reminding me I’m an idiot sometimes.” 

“H, you’re not an idiot.” Niall assures and then adds, cackling “You just don’t think with the right head.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry replies sourly.

“We’ve all been there.” Niall is still laughing. “And now since that shag is out of the question, get your arse over here.”

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” Harry asks, even if he definitely knows the answer already. 

“M’local, of course.” Niall confirms Harry’s hunch. The night is still young but right now Harry just wants to go back home and he says as much to Niall.

Causing Niall to counter immediately, “Because Louis’ there and you might miss him?” 

“This has nothing to do with Louis.” Harry denies a little too quickly while scrunching his nose.

“Everything you do has something to do with Louis.” Niall tells him with that annoyingly cheeky tone he whips out whenever he’s teasing him about Louis. 

“That’s not true.” Harry discloses. “And besides, I don’t even know if he’s home right now.” 

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Harry states firmly.

“You really should do something about that itch.” Niall warns, with faux concern laced in his voice.

“What fucking itch, Niall?” Harry requests impatiently.

“The itch that makes your balls wanna explode in frustration. And mark my words, Louis isn't doing any better.” Niall laughs his obnoxious laugh again. 

“Yeah, right.” He acknowledges with disbelief.

“You should just bite the bullet and do something about it, Haz.” Niall urges him. 

“Sure.” Harry replies sarcastically. 

“Shawn!” Niall screams out at full force causing Harry’s ear to ring. “Okay, Shawn’s here. I gotta go. So, you’re not coming then?”

“No, Niall. Not tonight.” Harry answers shaking his head, amusement twinkling in his eyes and playing with the corners of his mouth.

“Have fun!” Niall jokes, teasingly.

 _If only,_ Harry thinks to himself as he opens the Tube map app and taps his current and home addresses in the appropriate fields and presses search. The route planner gives him the result he is almost positive it would be, so he starts walking towards the suggested tube station and replaying Niall’s words.

Of course, he knew about Harry’s ridiculously hopeless infatuation with his roommate, and despite what Niall claims, Harry is positive it isn’t mutual. 

They have been living in the same flat for over a year now and Louis has yet to show any interest towards Harry in any other way than platonic. Certainly, he is grateful for that too because Louis is just such an awesome person; funny, witty, kind and fucking fit — just to mention a few of the traits that make Harry weak in the knees whenever he’s around. 

But over the months, he has become quite the expert at hiding his feelings and is even able to behave like a normal civilized human being when he is in the same room with him. It is only in the darkness of his own room where he lets his imagination soar freely and all his fantasies come alive. 

Harry feels a familiar longing in his groin as the memories from previous encounters flash in the back of his mind, such as when Louis walks around with nothing on but a pair of slim trackies hung low across his hips. He tugs his jacket a little bit lower, just in case. He silently thanks god that he isn’t a sixteen year old boy anymore who is unable to control his willy. Not that he is a master at that now just three years later, but at least this time he manages to remind himself he’s in public before any bodily reactions become too visible. 

A faint pink blush tints his cheeks as Harry hops inside a carriage after the tube pulls into the station. There are people inside but Harry is able to get himself a seat at the furthest end and no one sitting next to him. After a quick inspection, he lets his head press against the plexiglass and closes his eyes, sighing deeply. 

This really isn’t something he expects from a Friday night out. Well, truthfully, his first plan had been even more depressing; staying home, eating a takeaway and watching a film or two. 

Wild.

He made his first mistake of the night a few hours ago when he opened Tinder. The next faux pas had been swiping right when he saw Jonathan’s pic and the ultimate error had been a promise to meet him just after a short time chatting. 

Maybe it’s the approaching summer that’s making his hormones surge way too fast in his veins as though he is in heat or something, and this time had consequently led him to link together a chain of poor decisions.

Yeah, perhaps summer is a nice excuse to live recklessly but deep inside Harry knows what has an even bigger impact on his behaviour. Being nineteen, living with an extremely hot roommate and therefore sexually frustrated 24/7, is a recipe that sooner or later will lead to disaster; just like it has done today.

Harry must admit there _might_ have been some kind of ulterior motive when he had accepted the invitation to go out. It wouldn’t have been the first time his Tinder dates have ended with sex; some had been good and some, well, not so. Those occasional hook ups aren’t something he often looked for from Tinder but they seem to be the only ones he is able to get. After tonight, Harry is ready to remove the stupid app from his phone and prays that giving it up will bring something good his way. For now though, he’ll settle for something that will never let him down; his own right hand. 

And a barrage of images of Louis circulating in his head. 

His eyes, his bum, his raspy sexy laugh that makes Harry want to drop to his knees in front of him and suck him off till he’s boneless. Just the thought is making his cock twitch in his jeans. Harry opens his eyes and quickly shifts his position by crossing his legs. There is a lady around his mum’s age sitting a few metres away and Harry is sure she can read his filthy thoughts just by observing him from a distance.To hide his awkwardness, Harry takes out his phone and starts to scroll through it aimlessly. And because of that, he almost misses his station.

Shit, Harry curses as he rushes out from the carriage at the last second before the doors are closing again. This definitely is one of those days, or nights in this case, when nothing seems to go according to plan. When he emerges from the tube station in one piece and survives the short bus ride that follows, Harry decides to make a quick stop at the local Chinese restaurant. It isn’t his favourite one but this time it has to be good enough.

There is no queue, maybe for a reason, so he is able to get his food pretty fast. Not more than five minutes later he is already kicking his shoes off in the entry of their two bedroom flat. He obediently hung his coat on a hanger before making his way to their ample sized kitchen. He places the brown paper bag on the worktop, washes his hands and dries them on a colourful tea towel that hangs over a lower cupboard door. 

Then he pours himself a glass of water and drinks it slowly, listening to the silence around him. Louis is home, Harry is almost certain of it because he can feel him around (yes, it sounds weird) and the massive pile of Vans and other trainers didn’t seem to be missing a pair (don’t ask how he knows that). If his bedroom door is open, Harry can go and ask if he is hungry since he had bought enough food to feed an army.

He places the now empty glass on the table to use later but first he goes around the corner into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable. He pulls out a pair of grey trackies and a fresh t-shirt and lays them on the bed. He strips out of his current clothes and drops them into the laundry basket but instead of dressing straight away, Harry decides to take a quick shower and rinse the night off himself before slipping into clean clothes.

He wraps a towel around his hips and walks towards the bathroom located near the living room and Louis’ bedroom, while Harry’s is next to the kitchen. When he pads closer, Harry can hear the shower is running even though the door is ajar. It wouldn’t be the first time; it happens to Harry too. They rarely lock the door behind them when they use the bathroom since it is just the two of them and it is quite easy to tell if it is occupied or not. But the not-locking part sometimes causes problems, and that’s probably what’s happening now too. If the door isn’t pulled closed tightly enough that it clicks, it will slide open. 

Harry steps closer and is just about to close the door when he hears a low moan from the shower. 

It takes Harry a few ticks to make the connection but when he does he steps closer and determines Louis is, in fact, in the shower and touching himself. At the mere idea of it, he drops his hand from where it is grasping the doorknob and blindly palms at himself in the hallway, noticing he must have still been fired up from his earlier thoughts on the subway, and in the process of those mental gymnastics he loses his towel. He figures he won’t need it right now anyway.

Harry steps even closer and pushes the door open to the steamy room at a painstakingly slow pace, careful not to bring attention to himself. Fuck, this is creepy, he thinks to himself. But, its so fucking hot too. He decides quickly that he’ll tug himself off before Louis even finishes his shower. He rationalizes to himself that Louis will never know.

He closes his eyes as he wraps his hand around his cock and takes a few tentative tugs on it, slowly working his way up towards the head where he gathers the precome in his fingers and spreads it back down the shaft. He continues his ministrations for twenty seconds when he opens his eyes...and connects with Louis’ through the glass shower door that he must have silently streaked down with his hand, the wipe spanned from Louis’ head to his dick. A dick that is being pumped with vim and vigor.

“Shit!” Harry yelps and turns to run out of the bathroom… to immediately get on a plane bound for Australia where he will never be seen or heard from again.

“Wait.” Louis rasps, in a voice that sounds too fucked out to be fucked out yet. “Don’t go. I just...I…” Louis trails off, seemingly caught up in the moment.

“Mmmmnfp, fuck”. Harry voices aloud, it dripping with desire.

“I just, I wanna watch you.” Louis utters with a tambor to his voice similar to maple syrup.

“Lou…” Harry moans as he strips his cock with pure unadulterated abandon. This is all so surreal, it feels like he stepped out of his room and onto the set of some American frat house amateur porn video.

“You’re so fucking fit and I can’t believe this is happening, come in love, let me see you, just wanna see you.”

Harry, still not one for articulating full sentences at the mo’, walks wordlessly to the shower, fully enchanted by this siren before him.

Harry, being Harry, opens the glass door quickly so as to not get water all over the floor and damage the grout around the tiles. Once inside the steamy enclosure he watches Louis as he leans against the opposite wall from where Harry stands in front of the door.

Harry looks into Louis’ eyes with incredulity, as if there is no way on this green earth that this is actually physically happening. He rubs at his eyes, hoping that when he blinks them open he will still be stood in the shower with a very naked, and very hard Louis. Sure enough, there’s Louis, hot, wet and wanking himself not six inches from where Harry resumes jerking himself off at the same pace as Louis. Harry braves a look down, and he finds his eyes traveling down from Louis’ gorgeous eyes, to his chest, over his perky little nipples, his wet happy trail to meet face-to-dick with Louis’ thick erection. He picks up the pace at the sight of Louis stripping his cock with fervour, before trailing his gaze back up to meet with his hooded, cerulean eyes. 

Harry licks his lips, and watches Louis do the same, only he runs his hand through his wet hair and bites his lip afterwards. Which really sets Harry off. He closes his eyes in an effort to stave off blowing his load before he’s ready for this to be over (will he really ever be ready though?), likely all over Louis’ hand and cock. 

“Oh shiiiiiiiit.” He says as his eyes snapped open, knowing full well that the mental image pushed him past his threshold and he is going to come hard. He quickly finds Louis’ blown out, glassy eyes as he comes with a shout and aims it straight ahead, likely landing somewhere on Louis’ abdomen. He looked down to notice that not only had he made contact, but his premonition came true as he had jizzed all over Louis’ hand. 

Louis looks out of his everloving mind at what’s transpiring before him, he braces his hand against the tiles and moans out before reaching his climax and returning the favour all over Harry’s hand, then collapsing against Harry’s pec.

“Umm… I— Mmm...” Harry mumbled when the drumming of his heart began to stabilize and he realized what the bloody hell had just happened. Louis’ head is still leaning against the crook of Harry’s shoulder and Harry carefully nudges him up and steps out of the shower feeling rather embarrassed. He snatches a hand towel from the hook to cover his junk and tries to escape the bathroom as quickly as possible. 

“Harry…” Louis says so quietly that Harry almost doesn’t hear it. But still his feet stop in place. 

“Yeah.” Harry replies in a husky voice without turning around. How can he ever look at Louis in the eyes after this? _Shit_.

“Don’t go.” Louis asks softly.

“What…?” Harry is sure he is hearing wrong. His chest is heaving heavily in the rhythm of his breaths and his fingers are clutching around the soft fabric of his towel. 

“I said, don’t go.” Louis repeats. This time he is already standing right behind Harry and his fingers timidly touch Harry’s arm. “Please.”

“You’re not angry at me?” Harry turns around, eyes wide.

“Why would I be angry with you?” Louis counters, while he wraps his own towel around his waist. 

“Well, this.” Harry swipes his hand back and forth in the air between them while the other keeps the towel in place. Not that Louis hasn’t seen it all already, but still.

“What, because we wanked in front of each other?” Louis smirks.

“Well, yeah.” Harry huffs furiously and blushing madly in the process. “Seriously, you don’t hate me for watching you without your permission? It’s so creepy, more so in hindsight.” Harry says as he drops his head in embarrassment.

“No, Harry. I don’t hate you and you’re not a creep.” Louis smiles at Harry, trying to establish eye contact.

Harry cocks his eyebrow in questions, “Staring at you from the doorway with my dick in my hand isn’t creepy?” 

“Maybe if you say it like that, but I didn’t ask you to leave, did I?” Louis steps forward and places his hand gently on Harry’s bicep.

“Why didn’t you?” Harry asks in a moment of bravery.

“Maybe I liked it.” Louis responds, staring at Harry’s glistening chest whilst biting his lip. “Maybe I like you, too.”

“You like me…?” Harry’s heart starts to skip faster at the confession. Did Louis really just say he likes him?

“Mmm-mm.” Louis nods carefully. And then he hastens to say “But if you don’t like me like that, and you just wanted to get off, that’s alright too. We can just continue like we were… up until now, of course.”

“NO!” Harry shouts. “I mean, I like you too.” Harry says shyly from under his drippy wet fringe.

“You do?” Louis raises his sparkling eyes to Harry’s, who nods firmly.

They stood there, eyes locking for a few beats, beaming smiles plaster their faces until Louis cuts the silence.

“Erm, so I’m thinking, if you don’t have anywhere else to be tonight, would you like to watch a film or something, with me?” 

“Absolutely.” Harry breathes out. “I’ll just go grab some clothes and I’ll be right there to join you. Oh, I brought Chinese home!”

“Okay.” Louis says as he stretches up on his toes to peck Harry at the corner of his mouth, before dashing out of the bathroom.

Harry stays put in the bathroom, thumbing the spot where Louis’ lips have just grazed him, and a daft smile caressing his face. 

_“I like you_.” Harry reminisces Louis’ words when he confessed them a few moments ago. He stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him and reaching down to pick up the towel that had dropped precariously when he first heard the soft moans from the man he’s going to marry one day.

Maybe today isn’t so bad after all, Harry smiles dreamily. 

Could be the best ever, in fact.

Before deleting his Tinder account for good, he decides to send Jonathan a thank-you message. After all, if it wasn’t for him being an absolute tool of a date, he wouldn’t have walked in on Louis wanking.


End file.
